I’m the first grader with a juice icee in my hands. Now, my Papa has already asked me if He could open it for me and reminded me to “not go out in haste.” But…I see that the little side says, “tear here.” So, of course, I try to tear it and open it. I try to do it by myself and make things work out how I think they should go.
After a few failures and a painful wound on my hand from trying to work it out, I give up. I finally lift my head and realize instead of disappointment He is SO excited that I’ve turned back to Him to let Him work it out. With a lot of hope and a smile I can’t keep back, I see that He is opening the icee. I gleefully grab the deliciousness back and start to taste of its awesome, amazing goodness.
Only to realize that…wait. I can’t push the icee up all the way. Part of the wrapper is still stubbornly holding together. This good gift seemingly is taken away and with it goes my excitement, joy, and hope. Instead of realizing that oh hey there’s just more work to be done in me and in this good gift, I stubbornly hold tightly to it and pout about how this sure isn’t the life I want. I didn’t want a taste and then a rude snatching away. I didn’t want a gift that hurt me. I half try to throw the icee on the table because I don’t even know if I want it anymore. I don’t know if I even want to hope for it anymore. But it sits there. Staring at me, taunting me. Not to mention that it sure seems everywhere I look the other kids are happily eating their icees. I throw my little fit and get mad that He would do this to me.
He listens. He catches my tears. He asks for the icee back and eventually…I’m good at throwing fits….I throw my hands up in the air and let go of the icee exlaiming, “Okay, I trust you. Whether I get that icee or I get cheesecake from the Cheesecake factory or I get oreos or I get water. I don’t deserve anything and even the air I breathe is a gift. I trust that you know what I need, when I need it, and that You are for me. You give only good gifts and You give abundantly. Plus, You know the perfect timing. But, please, help me keep giving it back when I try to pick it up again…”
With my hands empty of nothing but Him, I find it’s a little easier to receive, to hope, to embrace my place, to smile even in the rain…
Next time…I just need to let go a little sooner.
b'ahava 
This reminds me of my elementary school days, sitting in the loud, crowded cafeteria, holding that prized icee that only was served for lunch once a week.
Yes, Jesus does know what we need, and when we need it. Only Jesus knows. His timing truly is perfect. Thank you for reminding me of this today, sweet Katy.
you were lucky you got it once a week! 🙂 the kiddos now don’t get it nearly as often.
clinging to the promise that He knows best and His timing is perfect myself!